The Kaleidoscope Sisters

by Ronnie K. Stephens

  In your absence, she fades. Find your way home

  this night, for today may well be her last.

  She collapsed against Martha and began to sob, unable to ignore the image of Riley lying in a hospital bed, her mother bent over the railing, both wondering where she had gone. Quinn had been so foolish to return to the other realm, and now she was wandering without so much as a clue as to how she would get home, much less find another heart flower to take with her.

  “It’s all right, Quinn. We’re going to search every bit of this place for them heart flowers. Won’t stop for nothing,” Betty whispered, wrapping her arms around the two older girls.

  “Betty—”

  “You heard her, Quinn. We haven’t got much in the way of family, and that we do got is worth any amount of looking. Go ahead and have yourself a cry if you need to, but we aren’t going anywhere. You’re family, now.”

  “But how will we—”

  “We’ll figure this out. I promise.” Martha pulled Quinn in close, cradling her head as she cried just as Jane often did after Riley had gone to bed. Martha, Quinn could tell, had been a sort of mother to her siblings in the other realm.

  “Say, where is Meelie?” Betty asked.

  “I pushed her a little too hard about her old life,” Quinn admitted. “She went off that way.”

  Quinn pointed farther down the path. Martha and Betty followed her gaze, and all three stood absolutely still, listening to the unmistakeable echo of sobs reverberating off the cave walls.

  “We’ll give her a few minutes to calm down. She don’t like talking about where she’s been, that’s for certain. She calms down quick enough, though. I imagine most folks here have got a bit of ghost they can’t give up.”

  * * *

  Meelie came back before long and took Quinn into her arms. Quinn’s tears stained her bomber jacket, but she didn’t move until her back went stiff. Martha and Betty had offered to keep searching the caves while Meelie thought through strategies in her head. One thing was certain: they couldn’t keep wandering the caves like a couple of lost pups. Her feet were killing her; judging from the way Quinn was limping, she wasn’t faring any better. They needed to find a swarm of red butterflies, and they needed to move quickly.

  She told Quinn that their best bet would be to leave the caves and go into the desert. They’d be able to ride Pidge, so they could cover more ground in half the time, and she was pretty certain there weren’t any butterflies lurking in the depths of the cave. They’d have seen something by now.

  Quinn didn’t have the energy to protest, so she followed along as Meelie picked her way back toward the mouth of the cave. She could hear Quinn’s feet dragging behind her. The rocks ripping across the dirt sounded like gears in a bad engine. They had got themselves in a mess, running on emotion when the situation called for anything but. Meelie felt she was as much to blame as Quinn. Quinn was coming to terms with having to leave her family, and Meelie was caught up in a selfish decision she’d made nearly a century ago. Maybe she ought to tell Quinn everything, from that first flight across the deep-blue Atlantic to the Oklahoma Derby that showed her for what she was, to that last desperate attempt to put everything behind her.

  “What have you heard about me, bunny?”

  “What?”

  “You said you got started on some research. So, what do you know?”

  “Well, um—oh! I read that you were the first woman to fly across the ocean.”

  “That right there is why I stayed.”

  Quinn looked at her, clearly perplexed.

  “That’s not the way things happened, and folks ought to know that. Hell, I wrote about the whole trip, told them all I didn’t touch the controls one time. I was little more than cargo, kid. Some hero. But when you die, everything goes rose-colored.”

  “And you think people would have seen you differently after your crash?”

  “They would have seen me the way other woman pilots had seen me for years: a two-bit aviator riding the tails of sponsorship and newspaper clippings to a spot in history.”

  “They really thought that?”

  “They sure did, and who could blame them? They were right.” Meelie trudged along in silence, staring at the rocky floor of the cave. “You ever heard of the Oklahoma Derby?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “The year was 1929, and someone had a mind to have all the best woman pilots race each other straight up the middle of the country. Most folks were excited. The whole thing stirred up quite a buzz, so of course I had to enter even though racing meant going head-to-head with women I knew full well could out fly me. And that’s exactly what they did. I came in fourth place—would have come in fifth if Marvel, rest her soul, hadn’t died in a crash. Maybe even further back than that, what with Pancho and Ruth hitting the ground, too.”

  “But that was just one race, Meelie.”

  “No. I flew a better, faster plane. The papers talked like I hung the moon myself. But those other women, they knew I wasn’t anything special. Only reason they kept their comments to themselves is I brought a lot of attention to women in the cockpit, and we all wanted to see folks give women flyers the same respect they gave men.”

  “So you gave up your life, your sister, because you wanted people to remember you as better than you were?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And no one here knows?”

  “Surely not.”

  “Why’d you tell me?”

  “You’re in a rough spot, bunny. And I suspect you don’t have much say in the matter anymore. So listen: if you come back for good, you have family here. I want you to know that. We aren’t blood, of course, but you won’t be alone. Not so long as I’m around.”

  Quinn didn’t have a chance to respond. They rounded a bend and found themselves back at the mouth of the cave. Dozens of people Quinn had never seen were milling about, folding blankets and dousing fires. Meelie stepped in front of her, leading the way to the children with whom she’d left Pidge.

  “Quinn, have you met the rest of Martha’s and Betty’s family?”

  Quinn held her hand out to the oldest, one of two boys. “Not really,” she said softly. “Just Martha and Betty.”

  “Go on,” Martha said as she and Betty stepped close to the group. “Don’t be rude, now. Tell her your names.”

  The three children introduced themselves. Every one of them looked younger than Quinn. They didn’t say much other than their names: Maurice, Louis, and Jennie. Once she had shaken each of their hands, the five huddled together almost reflexively. Any warmth that Martha and Betty had shown earlier was gone. Again, Martha stared at Quinn’s teleidoscope.

  “Do you want to look through the lens?” Quinn offered, slipping the lanyard over her head.

  “Are you sure?” Martha asked, her voice soft and unsteady.

  Quinn nodded and handed the teleidoscope to Martha, who lifted the lens to her eye.

  “Looks like you’ve used one before,” Quinn observed.

  “What is that thing anyway?” Meelie asked.

  “A teleidoscope, like a kaleidoscope without stained glass or a marble to look at.”

  “They didn’t have anything like this when I was a kid,” Martha added.

  Quinn was perplexed by Martha’s comment. Martha had known which side to look through, and she had aimed the tube at a small fire almost immediately.

  “You must be a natural,” Quinn remarked.

  “What? Oh, no. I met a man once who makes them. He don’t live here in the caves, but he comes by sometimes. Poor guy can’t remember anything from his life before the other realm except how to make these doohickeys.”

  Martha handed the teleidoscope back to Quinn, then dug through her blanket. “Here, you can have this one.” She handed Quinn an almost identical, larger version of her teleidoscope. “I have too many, anyway,” Martha added, pushing the tube into Quinn’s hand.

  “Thanks,” Quinn replied, unable to hide her confu
sion. Who was this man, and how had her father come across one of his contraptions?

  * * *

  Meelie waited until they were out of earshot before explaining to Quinn that they had all shown up together, the only ones she knew of who came to the other realm through fire. Quinn decided not to tell her that she had already talked with Martha and Betty about how they’d come to the other realm. Sometimes a shared secret is the only thing that connects two people, and Quinn knew she would need friends if she came to the other realm permanently.

  “How long have they been here?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Oh, I’m not certain of the year, but I imagine they’ve been here almost as long as I have.”

  “And their parents?”

  “Not one of them has said a word about their life back home.”

  “They’ve been here almost eighty years, and no one knows what happened to their parents?”

  “Nope.”

  Quinn’s stomach turned.

  “They probably died believing that they’d finally get to see their children again. But they won’t. This place is a curse, Meelie. Nothing here but a lot of souls who didn’t have the decency to die when they were buried.”

  Meelie couldn’t fault Quinn for being so bleak. She was fifteen and trapped. Her sister was a world away. And if they didn’t move quickly, she might not even get to say goodbye.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jane paced the carpet in front of the receptionist, trying not to eavesdrop on her conversation with Dr. Howe. Between Quinn’s disappearance and Riley’s sudden downturn, she had completely forgotten that he was on vacation and wouldn’t return until the end of the week.

  “Yes, she’s here in the office,” the receptionist said, making eye contact with Jane. “Yes, sir. One moment.” She motioned for Jane.

  “Dr. Howe would like to speak to you.”

  Jane took the phone from her and raised the speaker to her ear. “Dr. Howe, I’m so sorry—”

  “Don’t worry,” he cut in. “I gather that Riley is in pretty bad shape. Can you tell me more about her symptoms?”

  Jane relayed what the nurse had told her, as well as the lethargy and raspy voice she’d noticed on the ride over.

  “You said her skin is pale, too?”

  “Yes. And clammy.”

  “Now, Jane, I don’t want you to worry. I can’t get back until tomorrow, but I’m going to have Riley admitted for observation overnight. I’m sure she’ll be fine, but I’d feel safer if we were monitoring her until I arrive.”

  Jane drew in a breath. “Okay.”

  “You’ll be able to stay with her, of course.”

  “Do you think I should?”

  The question stuck in her throat. Riley had never stayed in the hospital by herself. Normally, the nurses would have had to pull Jane from the room to get her to leave. But today was different. Quinn had been missing for at least twelve hours now, and Jane was having a hard time masking her concern.

  “That’s really up to you. If I remember, you don’t live far, and the nurses will call if there’s any indication that Riley needs you.”

  Jane handed the phone back to the receptionist, who moved her fingers across the keyboard as she listened to Dr. Howe on the other end of the line.

  “Dr. Howe would like to admit Riley for observation,” she reiterated after hanging up the phone. “He mentioned that you won’t be staying with her tonight. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I—”

  “That will be fine. We will need you to stay until we get your daughter settled into a room, of course.”

  “Of course, I—”

  “Very well. Someone will call for Riley when we’re ready to take her back.”

  Jane was wracked with guilt, and the receptionist’s curt interruptions had done nothing to ease her mind. The thought of leaving Riley by herself made her physically sick, but what else could she do? Quinn was her daughter too, and something must be wrong for her to be gone so long without so much as a phone call to let Jane know where she was. She had intended to get Quinn a cell phone when Quinn began driving, but now she regretted not getting one for Quinn sooner.

  “Damn it, Quinn,” she muttered under her breath. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Did you say something, mama?” Riley asked, looking up from the floor where she was working on a puzzle.

  “No, baby. Just thinking out loud.”

  Riley went back to her puzzle. Jane envied her innocence, the way she could smile and busy herself with whatever the doctor’s office had scattered in the waiting room. Or was that courage? Jane sometimes wondered if Riley understood a good deal more than she let on, but put on a mask to spare her mother. She sat watching her youngest daughter arranging the pieces, coughing each time her shoulders rose for a deep breath.

  “Riley? Riley Willow?”

  Jane looked up to see a woman in pink scrubs scanning the room.

  “Come on, Riley,” Jane said, hurrying her daughter toward the nurse.

  Once in the room, Jane explained that she wouldn’t be able to stay the night with Riley.

  “You know I’m just a few minutes away. If you need me for anything at all, someone will call me and I’ll come right back.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Riley assured her, smiling.

  Jane fought back tears as she leaned over to kiss Riley on the forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She turned and left the room, barely able to hold herself together as she made her way back to her car. As soon as she closed the door, she began to sob. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, and a storm was moving in fast. Jane studied the sky, which looked almost regal with indigo hues and towering wall clouds.

  * * *

  At home, Jane let Butterfly out. She went to fill his bowl, but found that he hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. He must sense that something is wrong, she thought. She made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, the first thing she’d eaten all day, and thought through any place Quinn might go to wait out the storm. Jane would have a hard time searching for her if the rain was heavy, but she could also be reasonably certain that Quinn wouldn’t be outdoors. She had a keen sense for changes in the weather, and Jane was willing to bet that she’d have felt the electricity in the air well before the clouds formed.

  She let Butterfly back in, setting a few pieces of cheese next to his bowl. He sniffed them, then ambled over to Jane and lay down at her feet. He whined and pushed his head against her leg.

  “I know, buddy. I know.”

  Jane gathered her purse and keys, flicked on the entry light for Butterfly, and grabbed an umbrella. She had decided to make a quick run by the bakery and butterfly sanctuary before the rain started just in case she’d missed Quinn earlier. There were a number of shops and restaurants down the hill from the sanctuary, too. Jane would have to park and search them one by one. She would have to choose her words carefully when she asked if anyone had seen Quinn or someone might alert the police. Though she was getting more and more worried, she wasn’t ready to spend hours at the police station going over her daughter’s behavior and possible whereabouts.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Quinn stood alone at the mouth of the cave, staring into the mulberry dusk. She felt absolutely helpless. Something had happened to Riley, and her mother was probably losing her mind with Quinn gone. The heart flower had been so easy to find last time, and the red butterflies had shown her the way home. But she had gone deep into the cave this time and saw neither. Quinn knew that she would have to go into the desert, yet the sky was already too dark to venture very far from the cave. She would be lost in a matter of minutes if she left now.

  “You okay, bunny?” Meelie asked, startling Quinn.

  “No, Meelie. No, I’m not. I can’t stand feeling helpless. My family needs me, and I can’t do a damn thing. I’m just stuck waiting for the day to break while Riley could be dying! What if I don’t get back in time, Meelie? What i
f she dies wondering where I’ve gone? I promised I’d never leave her. I promised—”

  Meelie wrapped an arm around Quinn and pulled her close. They both looked out at the sky, which had gone black seemingly in a moment.

  “Hold on,” Quinn shouted, jumping to her feet.

  “What’s the matter, hon?”

  “That swarm of butterflies, the ones that glow, does that swarm pass by here every night?”

  “Yeah. Some sort of migratory thing, I guess.”

  Quinn held out the net Aimee had woven for her.

  “I’m going to need a stick, Meelie.’

  “I don’t follow.”

  “I’m going to catch some of the butterflies and use them like a lantern.”

  “Quinn, that sounds awful risky.”

  “I can’t just sit here, Meelie. I have to do something. I have to try.”

  “Well, no sense going alone. Let me get my things.”

  Quinn waited anxiously for Meelie to return. She squinted at the darkness and felt sure she had seen a purple flash in the distance.

  “Meelie, hurry!” she shouted over her shoulder. “They’re coming!”

  She didn’t know what to do. If she missed the butterflies, there’d be little hope of searching for a heart flower tonight, but she knew she was safer with Meelie. Besides, she didn’t yet have a stick for the net. The purple haze grew brighter on the horizon. To her right, Quinn heard a scratching noise. She turned to see Meelie’s hen, which must have wandered over while she was lost in thought. In an instant, Quinn was on Pidge’s back. She let out a loud squawk, but didn’t fight her as she positioned herself.

  “Come on!” Quinn urged, digging her heels into Pidge’s ribs.

  She tore out into the desert with such speed that Quinn nearly lost her balance. She dug her hands into the feathers at the base of Pidge’s neck, turning her head toward the butterfly swarm. As they got closer, the light intensified.